The Lonesome Crowded West

by

Modest Mouse

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I really can't believe it. I bought "The Lonesome Crowded West" about a month ago on the strength of "The Moon and Antarctica," to which I was addicted from early June to late July. The discordant, fractured first tens seconds of "Teeth Like God's Shoeshine" left me coughing and sweating in my earphones, but I did not dare remove them. About 70 minutes and 15 tracks later, I stood up slowly, walked across the room to the stereo, hit play, and returned quietly to my chair to do it all over again. I'm still sitting there.

Let me try to place "The Lonesome Crowded West" in its proper historical context. It is, in my humble view, the single best American rock record of the 1990s (with Slint's "Spiderland," Pavement's "Slanted and Enchanted," and Brainiac's "Bonsai Superstar" running close behind, but behind nonetheless). It is a long, monumental, messy, glorious bleat on the order of "Exile on Main Street" or "London Calling." It sounds like a cross between The Pixies and Polvo, with a smidge of Neil Young thrown in for good measure. Not too shabby. Not too shabby at all.

Besides "Teeth Like God's Shoeshine," my highlights are "Convenient Parking," "Cowboy Dan" and "Polar Opposites." Every tune's got the shtank, and that's what matters.